The Gourmet
by ShadowBloodNinja
Summary: I was a simple cafe owner. He was some rich guy my sister started to date. I hated him, but I suppose he isn't so bad. Not after what happened. "I am a connoisseur, Tsukiyama-san. Cooking is the love of my life." Tsukiyama smiled, "I myself am a bit of a gourmet, Heather Hibiscus. Perhaps I'll find your cooking magnifique." Was it all worth it?


**The Gourmet**

**A Oneshot for Rei-chan**

* * *

The day the purple haired man walked into my cafe was the day everything for me changed. I didn't know it at the time but when the tall purple haired man who resembled a model with questionable fashion choices sat down at a table and ordered coffee. I bustled over after serving a young couple and pushed my messy dirty blonde bangs out of my face.

"What can I get you?" I asked, pulling a pen from behind my ear to bring it to my small pad for taking orders. The man gave me a charming smile while his eyes, a bright beautiful purple, seemed to almost glow with charm.

"Just a coffee, mademoiselle." his voice seemed like syrup to me, smooth and sweet yet sticky.

"Of course." I didn't bother writing it down, rather I skipped to the counter where my sister was lazily leaning against the counter with her hazel eyes raking over a magazine. She worked for me only because my parents demanded I give her a spot since she was lazy and spoiled. She didn't really do any actual work, only actually serving good looking men or when we had a rush and I had to stay in the back to continue baking. But I loved my quaint little cafe and I loved cooking, so this didn't bother me.

I made the coffee, pouring the coffee delicately to allow the best flavor, before I returned to the purple haired man's table and set it down in front of him. He thanked me with a flamboyant gesture of his hands and something in another language. I smiled at him and returned to where my sister was sitting, her hazel eyes wide and starstruck.

"Ohmygod." she turned to me, "Do you know who that is?!"

I turned to look at the purple haired man again, "Uh, no?"

Scandalized, my sister began to flip through her magazine at a rapid pace before finding what she was looking for and shoving the booklet in my face. I pushed it back and allowed my eyes to rake over the page.

"Tsukiyama?" I tilted my head, "Sounds like the name of a food."

I think my sister's soul died when I said that, and she deemed me unimportant as she lifted her mostly unused notebook and bounced over to the man to ask if he needed anything else.

"Tsukiyama, hm..." I scanned the article again now that it was now longer getting rubbed in my face, "Oh, the family that owns a lot of trading business." With little interest I closed the magazine and looked up to my sister coming back with a big smile.

"He asked my name!" she squealed, "And then he called my name beautiful!" I blinked at her. My sister's name was Calla Marigold, Calla meant regal and Marigold meant desire for riches. My name was Heather Hibiscus, my parents fighting over my name. Heather meant solitude and Hibiscus delicate beauty. For both of us our parents were half right. Calla desired riches but she was anything but regal, despite what she says, and I was a loner by nature and anything but beautiful.

"I see. Did he order anything else?"

My sister sputtered at my lack of care, but told me he ordered another coffee. As I made the second coffee I could feel the intensity of eyes on me and I looked up, catching the violet gaze of the Tsukiyama man. I finished making the coffee and handed it gingerly to my sister to bring to the man. She flounced over and I almost winced when she nearly slammed the cup down in her excitement.

"Calla I swear if you break that cup I'm going to strangle you with that pretty hair of yours!" I snarled from my spot, Calla turning to glare at me with the wrath of a scorned woman and the Tsukiyama man gave an amused look.

"And what is your name, mademoiselle?" he asked, his syrup voice sounding so nice yet also so thick and sticky.

I paused for a moment to look at the man as if seeing him for the first time, "Heather."

He brightened and I turned around abruptly to end the conversation, not wanting to hear about my name or my appearance. I heard my sister lean down to talk with the man.

"Her full name's Heather Hibiscus. She's pretty anti-social despite her owning this cafe." I turned to glare daggers at my sister but Calla simply ignored it. Sighing, I headed into the back after taking note I needed to bake more sweet bread.

Two weeks passed after first meeting the Tsukiyama man and he came back every day from then on. By the end of the first week I usually had a coffee prepared for his arrival which he would accept graciously before my sister would sit and chat with him. She ignored me when I threatened to deduct her pay for the hours she spent lazing about so I took all the other customers who entered during the half hour the Tsukiyama man spent at my cafe.

I hated it when he visited, his eyes followed me around when I prepared food and I often took to preparing inside the back when he was at the cafe. I was nothing special after all, my dirty blonde hair was usually hardly brushed and pulled back in a messy bun while thick black glasses perched on my nose and hid my light amber eyes.

When the end of the second week came my sister nearly tackled me out of her pure joy when she was asked on a date by the purple haired man. It was evidently that day so she bounced into the back to use the stairs to no doubt go up to my loft apartment and steal clothes from me. I narrowed my eyes at the Tsukiyama man who peacefully smiled at me.

"You're stealing my employee." I told him flatly.

His smile didn't change, "What work does she do, Heather Hibiscus-san?"

I narrowed my eyes even further, "You have a solid point. Fine."

My sister, ten minutes later, came downstairs with her own golden hair left to cascade around her in waves while she stole a skirt I had worn once for a formal event and the tank top that she had under her apron.

"Bye Heather! Have fun with your little shop!" was the goodbye my sister gave me when she left with the Tsukiyama man. I rolled my eyes at her and continued with my day.

A week later and the two began to formally date which set my sister over the moon. Unfortunately, this led to me seeing the Tsukiyama man often. My sister decided to use my loft as her go to place with Tsukiyama and I often had to kick them out of my place. I started to grow annoyance with the Tsukiyama man, but like how despite how much I disliked my vain and lazy sister, I didn't hate her. Rather, she was family, and I did love her.

"How angry would you be if Shuu-kun and I had sex in your bedroom?" was the question that my sister asked after a month of their formal dating. I had choked on my morning coffee and asked her to repeat the question. She did. I choked a second time.

Finally, I sputtered, "What the hell!? Of course not!"

My sister pouted at me and tried to convince me to not freak out if I walked in on them. I of course told her that I would put my foot down at that and I didn't care if she was my sister or god himself, she was not doing that in my home.

The same day my sister asked that question was the day my parents were having us, us being my sister, her significant other, me, and the significant other I didn't have, for dinner. As soon as I entered the house I wished I had feigned death.

"Oh Heather Hibiscus come say hello to Shuu-san!" my mother's shrill voice cooed as she sat beside my father on one couch. Tsukiyama and Calla took up the other couch and I looked between my options.

"Good evening Tsukiyama-san." I greeted politely, "Calla. Mother. Father." Then I fled to the kitchen. My parents of course had cooked for us but I was a bit of a control freak with food. I was a master of cooking, I loved it to bits. No way would I allow my parents to make mediocre food. And so I did the best I could to fix what mistakes my mother had made while cooking and I became lost in what I loved most.

"You like cooking, yes Heather Hibiscus?" Tsukiyama had dropped all formalities after I walked in on him and my sister, him shirtless and her no doubt on the way to it. I had simply grabbed his shirt and threatened to take a knife to it if they didn't get out of my home. Of course that shirt had been worth more than I was, and Tsukiyama made a point of this but he still left. After all, angering your girlfriend's sister was a horrible thing to do.

I didn't stop what I was doing for Tsukiyama, "Cooking is the love of my life."

"Really?" He sounded surprised.

"I am a connoisseur, Tsukiyama-san. I will only make the best quality of food and if I can salvage a dinner then I will salvage that dinner." It wasn't an explanation, rather it was a way of avoiding the topic by me opening a new one. Tsukiyama came and leaned over the counter by me to see what I was doing.

"I myself am a bit of a gourmet, Heather Hibiscus. Perhaps I'll find your cooking magnifique." Tsukiyama sounded very arrogant, very sure that he'd not be surprised by the taste of my cooking. I gave him probably the only smile he had received since his first day in my cafe.

"Your taste buds are going to be very picky after being subjected to my fine cuisine."

Tsukiyama was bearable in the kitchen. Once I served dinner though, he was unbearable. I felt myself wanting to kill my sister and him as they spoke with my parents. I ate my food in silence, enjoying the tastes and flavors.

"Heather Hibiscus, why haven't you brought your boyfriend?" my mother inquired. I didn't answer, rather I gave her a look.

Tsukiyama piped up, "She told me cooking is the love of her life." I don't know who scowled best, me towards Tsukiyama or my mother and father towards me.

"You need to find a man." my mother scolded as my father added, "Cooking is a woman's job but a woman needs a man to cook for."

I didn't respond to them. Our views differed, I was more independent and modern while they were traditional and over bearing. I wouldn't argue over their view points, that was just rude.

At the end of the dinner when Tsukiyama and I were leaving, we ended up walking down the block the same way. When we went to split ways, I turned to the purple haired asshole and punched his arm, "That's for being a shit at dinner." And then I left, his purple eyes watching me go.

My sister's romance with Tsukiyama died around their third month. They started to argue over things that I didn't care about. Those issues didn't concern me. Rather, I just left things as they were.

"I can't believe him!" Calla sniffled as she blew into a tissue. It was a holiday and my cafe was closed. I was running through stances from the local dojo that kept me in somewhat decent shape. I was lucky that from all the eating I did, I had a fast metabolism.

As my shoulder popped and I felt relief enter that joint I snorted at her, "He's a man. Find another."

"It's not that simple!" the banshee shrieked. Then her rant began. I tuned out after she accused me of not caring, which was somewhat true, and that I just didn't understand because I was a prude who hadn't dated a man in my life. When there was a knock on my door I left my sister to answer it and she promptly went back to sobbing into one of my pillows. I opened the door to reveal Tsukiyama, his purple eyes not showing a single bit of irritation like my sister's red abused eyes. He hadn't been crying.

"If you're here to apologize, duck for the first thing she throws and catch the second." I let him in, giving zero shits about them. I heard Calla throw a book at him when I sat in the other room to give them space and then after twenty minutes Calla told me she was leaving. She stormed out and I gave Tsukiyama a raised eyebrow as he made himself at home on my couch.

Tsukiyama's arrogance pissed me off, "I don't care what you do, as long as it's outside my house."

"I don't understand your sister." Tsukiyama ignored what I said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

I shrugged, "Neither do I." I continued with my stances and Tsukiyama watched with bored eyes. Then, I slipped on the book my sister had thrown.

"God damn it!" I yelped as I pulled my arms to my face and avoided cracking open my forehead on the corner of the coffee table. Rather my arm got a nice gouge on it, blood starting to drizzle from it. I swore again as I put my mouth to it to stop the bleeding so I could examine my cut.

Tsukiyama out of the corner of my eye was suddenly tense as if he were concerned for me. I waved my good arm at him to let him know I was fine and he stayed tense. He stood and left the room, coming back a few minutes later to press a towel he found to my arm.

"It's just a cut. My fingers are scarred from knives going wrong. I'm fine." I assured him when he continued to fidget.

"I'm going to go after your sister since you're fine." Tsukiyama decided and I bid him good luck as he hurried out. I assumed my getting injured had given him some sort of epiphany.

I spent the rest of the day by myself relaxing and enjoying my peace and quiet. That night my peace was shattered when my parents called asking if I had seen Calla. I left the warmth of my house to search for my sister. I assumed she was at Tsukiyama's but to ease my parent's minds I left to look around my area for her.

The seventh ward was generally normal with Ghoul activity. I was wary of dark alleys but other than that I felt I would be fine at night. As I walked through the streets angrily keeping an eye out for my sister I saw a familiar flash of purple hair.

"Tsukiyama!" I called, forgoing honorifics in favor of getting information about my sister. He turned and smiled at me when recognizing me.

"Ah, buonasara Heather Hibiscus!" he greeted, "What are you doing out so late?"

I could ask the same of him, but I didn't particularly care about what he was doing, "Have you seen my sister? My parents said she didn't come home."

Tsukiyama bit his lip and shook his head. He explained he hadn't seen her after leaving to find her and figured he would catch up with her at my cafe after giving her a few days to cool down. I frowned at this and felt the slightest bit of worry in my stomach start to form. At my look, Tsukiyama shed his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. He gave me his usual prince charming smile.

"It's late and almost winter, allow me to walk you home." He left no room for argument and we walked in silence. We reached my loft apartment and I gave him back his jacket that smelled of spice cologne and coffee. I bid him goodnight and requested that if he saw my sister he call me so that I could deafen her with my anger over the phone. Or I could go drag her by the hair back to my parent's house.

The next morning I woke up to a knock on my door. With a disgruntled sigh I slid out of my bed and pulled on a sweatshirt to answer the door in somewhat appropriate attire. I opened it to reveal Tsukiyama and at his feet was a box.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to the box that was about the size of a computer.

Tsukiyama shrugged, "It was here when I arrived. But buenas dias Heather Hibiscus! Have you heard from your sister?" I shook my head and let him in. I placed the box on the kitchen counter and took a butchers knife to cut through the duct tape that sealed the box tightly. Tsukiyama politely waited as I opened the strange box. There were no postal marks on it or any signature to tell me its sender.

A putrid, heavy smell pierced the air when I flipped open the box. I gagged and looked into the box. My mind registered what it was before I was even mentally aware of it. All I could see was the blondeblonde hair matted with the redred blood and the hazel emptyemptydead eye of my sister. The dismembered head was left in a bucket and one eye was gone, a socket left there. The scent of blood was overpowering and I didn't realize I was screaming and falling until Tsukiyama caught me and helped me to the other room.

Tsukiyama shushed me and called the police who came with the CCG. It was determined to be a Ghoul attack and in the box they found the message that was left for me. My sister's life had ended to feed the gourmet Ghouls who ate only the finest of humans. I had been shocked to stillness, the words gourmet and connoisseur that I had always used to describe myself suddenly coming to mean something hate filled and ugly.

Tsukiyama, whose eyes did show hints of crying that I didn't point out to him, stayed strong through the investigation and he was nice enough to stay with me after they left. His strength was unbelievable as he allowed me to wallow in my depression and shock. By the second day, in which Tsukiyama had come back after leaving the night prior, I was moving again. My cafe had a notice on the door that it wouldn't be open for awhile and Tsukiyama was extremely concerned to find me angrily sharpening all my knives when he arrived.

"Knives can't pierce Ghoul skin." Tsukiyama commented as he watched me sharpen a knife that was longer than my face. I gave him a dull look.

"Doesn't mean I can't try."

Tsukiyama nodded at my point, "The Ghoul would kill you."

"You can't stop me from trying. Besides, on a rational note, these knives did need sharpening." Tsukiyama seemed relieved my usual dryness was there.

That day was spent with me making food obsessively since cooking always made me feel better. However the words gourmet and connoisseur and other similar words swam around my mind and I messed up several recipes and just couldn't be happy with my cooking. It was as if the thing I had proclaimed my love to just couldn't make me happy now. It was as if cooking was related to my sister's murder.

The next day Tsukiyama returned again, and in my stages of grief where I was jumping randomly through stages, I hit either a second anger or my day of sharpening knives was begging and this was my stage of anger. I had been accepting the day before and absolute depression was the first day. It seemed I was almost done with grief. Today's stage was lashing out at Tsukiyama.

"Why are you even here?" I snarled from where I was curled up under a blanket on my couch with episodes of the English television show Hell's Kitchen playing on my television from one of my DVDs for it.

Tsukiyama took a ginger seat next to me, "Your parents have each other. You have no one, so you may have me."

I snarled at him like an animal but didn't ask him to leave. He watched an episode of Hell's Kitchen with me and with his knowledge of other languages he was able to understand the gist of what was happening. I myself was fluent in English as I took that in school. I also knew German and Japanese, Japanese being obvious and German due to my family being mostly German with just my father being Japanese and he gave zero genes to my sister or I. My sister got our mother's eyes and I inherited recessive genes that said fuck you to my dad's brown eyes.

"You know, when I first saw you in your cafe, I thought you were no one." Tsukiyama suddenly spoke up, "Then I drank your coffee and wondered how a no one could make something so delicious."

"Yeah?" I looked at him from the corner of my eye. After a good episode of Hell's Kitchen I had become less snappish and leaned more towards disgruntled brooding.

"Of you and your sister, I wanted to get to know you the most." I didn't want Tsukiyama to continue, yet couldn't bring myself to tell him to stop out of curiosity of what he would say, "To be honest, your sister was supposed to be a way of getting to you. Your sister was a lovely person but I will not let this grief stop me from living on."

I turned to fully face the purple haired man, "What are you saying?"

Tsukiyama hummed to himself, "I don't know myself."

And that was the end of that conversation.

My grief didn't end there. Rather I put up a happy facade for those around me but in my own home I became a shell. Tsukiyama, after that day, stopped by the cafe for his usual coffee and we reached our old routine that we had once uneasily kept. Now, it was something that kept me from roasting in my anger or boiling in my depression.

Two months from my sister's death marked the day Tsukiyama asked me on a date. I had stared at him with unblinking eyes before having to ask him to repeat it. He did and gave me a bright smile that was more than charming. I declined.

The next day he asked again. I declined, again. That became a two week routine before I said yes and that we could watch Hell's Kitchen for several hours straight in my loft apartment. That was our date, seven hours straight of Hell's Kitchen. Tsukiyama's reward for his surprising perseverance was the next day when he asked me on a date, I accepted.

"It feels like I'm dancing on my sister's grave," I commented to Tsukiyama, "But whatever. She'd do the same." We went to eat and Tsukiyama was highly amused as I criticized the entire meal we had and the waiter called the chef out who I then proceeded to almost grill to tears. Cooking is not for the faint of heart you see. Gordon Ramsay would agree.

Tsukiyama didn't ask me to be his girlfriend. I think he knew I'd reject him. The various dates continued for another month and our favorite activity became me bringing chefs to tears and Tsukiyama watching. Tsukiyama said I was worse than the man on Hell's Kitchen. I had snorted at that and after another marathon of Hell's Kitchen, turns out Tsukiyama was right. Fuck you Gordon Ramsay, I'm Satan now. At some point during those dates we started to kiss, then started to make out, then started to get more and more sexual tension.

What happened next in our relationship was to be put nothing less than blunt. Sex. It happened naturally and unexpectedly. I couldn't tell you how we got to it. What I did know was that Tsukiyama was rough. He was experienced while I was not. Tsukiyama was confident while I was not. Tsukiyama was the leader and I followed.

Tsukiyama was handsome, and it was intimidating. Not only was it intimidating but the fact that I had little to zero self confidence it took a lot for Tsukiyama to remove each article of clothing. He whispered to me sweet nothings and the sex was good. My only complaint was that the roughest bit was Tsukiyama was a biter. He drew blood twice and had profusely apologized afterwards but I shrugged it off. Adding to the bloody bite marks there were several more indents where he didn't draw blood.

Something that Tsukiyama didn't let me live down was the fact I usually called him Tsukiyama. Rather than use his name, Shuu, like I should I just couldn't. Sure if there was another Tsukiyama around I'd use Shuu, but the name Tsukiyama brought more comfort than Shuu. I liked it better.

Our relationship lasted another month in which again we didn't become boyfriend and girlfriend. Rather we were what we were. We had sex, we went on dates, we kissed, we enjoyed each other. Our relationship, I like to say, didn't meet an end.

Tsukiyama and I were at my loft apartment as per usual. I was nursing my post-sex bite marks and teasing him about it. Tsukiyama was always sheepish about his habit to bite, but he always told me I tasted good to make up and keep his usual composure.

"I swear, you're like a Ghoul." I said, and this was the comment that caused Tsukiyama to almost flinch. I looked at him and he gave me his usual smile but it was off. This smile was covering something up.

"What's wrong?" I asked, "I can see through that bullshit smile."

I think I killed Tsukiyama's soul. He looked as if he deflated and he leaned back. I leaned back on him, resting my head on his bare chest. He looked down at me and sighed, "You'll hate me forever."

I blinked at him.

"If I tell you." he added unhelpfully at my blink. I gave him another blink and he stayed silent.

"What would I hate you for?"

Tsukiyama started to run a hand through my hair and then moved to rubbing my back gently. He frowned, "Do you love me?"

I thought about it, did I love Tsukiyama? Our relationship was decently casual, but I suppose he was the next best thing to cooking. Considering cooking was the love of my life, Tsukiyama was doing pretty good. And, after Calla's murder, cooking lost it's appeal. I still loved it, but not nearly as much.

"Yes, I love you." I told him. He smiled, a gentle, peaceful smile, and kissed my head.

"I'm a Ghoul, mi amor."

And I think I asked him to repeat it, but he didn't. He knew I heard him. That it was just my reflex to ask him to repeat things now.

"That's why you bite." I took note, then my thoughts ran to my sister, "I'm not against Ghouls entirely. I wouldn't hate you for being a Ghoul. What did you do?" Tsukiyama's eyes said all I needed to know. Those warm eyes were suddenly stormy and his hand stopped rubbing my back.

"I think you know."

I think I did too, "You're a gourmet."

He nodded.

"You're one of the ones who killed my sister."

A second nod, "Not of the ones. I am the one. I led her there. I watched her die. Served her to them. I'm the one who left her head at your doorstep."

Silence.

"Why?" My voice cracked. Tsukiyama licked his lips.

"She... was tempting. She smelled so much like you. She smelled so wonderful." he swallowed as if talking about it made him hungry, "I fought it. But... eating her was worth it, I'd say."

He smiled, "It led me to you."

I looked at him and couldn't gather my thoughts. My first ones, which were the best ones in my opinion, were that Tsukiyama was insane. There was a look slowly coming in his eyes and his voice was deep and husky, "You said you loved me."

"I did." I answered, my voice small. I wasn't so sure of that answer now though. Perhaps that spark was still there, perhaps I could find a way to love Tsukiyama again. But certainly not soon. Scars had just been opened after all.

"Then... Heather Hibiscus," Tsukiyama's voice was by my ear, "Could I taste you?"

I don't know, to be honest, if I consented or not. But I felt his teeth through my shoulder. I could feel as blood ran down my body and how despite what he was doing he tried his hardest to stop it. His mind was thrown over by instinct, I couldn't possibly blame him. He was Ghoul and it was in his nature. I could feel his hands reached at my body, grabbing on as if to try and hold onto me. Then I glimpsed his face.

His smile was blood red and his lovely purple eyes gone, replaced by the dark colors of crimson and black. My blood dribbled from his scarlet smile and contrasted against his pale skin. But, what hit me was the most, was his tears. He was crying, for what?His eyes screamed a thousand apologies and despite how hard he seemed to grip at me to keep me, his instinct was winning. I was simply not enough to overcome his nature.

I don't blame Tsukiyama. Not the slightest bit. I don't blame him for his instinct winning and how giving in to it, his hands gently caressed me. Even now, during these moments where my blood stained both of us, I could feel something akin to love. There was passion there. My body was starting to feel heavy and numb, the pain that had initially been there gone. Everything was warm and my vision was starting to blur. I gave Tsukiyama a smile, as if to say everything would be fine. Yet he still cried.

I remember the last thing I heard before I died of probably blood loss. Or perhaps through my numbness to pain Tsukiyama had moved from my shoulder to my neck and down. It was surprising, how gentle death was. How being ripped apart by someone you love could possibly be a peaceful death.

The last thing I heard was a sweet nothing that meant everything.

"You taste lovely, mi amor."


End file.
